


Found Family

by whiim



Series: For Better, or for Worse [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3, Fallout 4
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Deviates From Canon, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Partners to Lovers, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:01:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29812953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiim/pseuds/whiim
Summary: The nuclear wasteland of America is a cold uncaring place, and most barely leave the tiny settlements they grow up in. Maple Astor and Robert Joseph MacCready have both travelled between two hubs of life that remain, but will they persevere when they have to return home?They both want to find their family, and they find eachother along the way.-------------------------"Oh my God! You're just a kid!""I uh, I'm 22...""You're an idiot.""I know."Meeting your childhood hero is always weird. It's even weirder when you try to hook up with them.
Relationships: Female Lone Wanderer/Robert Joseph MacCready
Series: For Better, or for Worse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1708930
Kudos: 2





	Found Family

_ MacCready _

_ “You need a break, Mac.” _

_ Bla bla.  _ A break for Mac is a glass of rum and nuka and a vantage point to put a bullet between someone’s eyes. 

But that wasn’t good enough for Vanessa, and Victory only agreed, both of them had important stuff to do anyway  _ apparently.  _ Victory was taking Curie on her first Railroad mission and Vanessa had generic sole survivor stuff to do, messing with the Institute or whatever she was up to now.

So, he gave in, not without kicking up a fuss first, obviously, if they’re gonna treat him like a child, he may as well act like one.

Ah, Goodneighbour. 

What? Where else was he supposed to go? The biggest crack den in the Commonwealth was naturally the best place to take a break. He never felt quite right in Diamond City, too clean. Besides, it’d been a while since he’d seen Hancock, anyway. 

So that’s where he heads first, straight up into what he describes as his office. 

“Hey Hancock, I’ve missed that ugly mug of yours.” He looks up, and grins brightly, gesturing to the couch in front of him, “yours ain’t much better ‘Cready. I’ll meet you down in the Rail in a bit, in the middle of a  _ business meeting. _ ” 

Business meeting means either the chem trade, he’s threatening someone, or it’s a caravan wanting to set up here. Mac looks at the couch to help pick which one it seems to be, it’s turned away from him and whoever is sitting in it is sitting  _ wrong.  _ Can’t even see the back of their head cause their legs are hanging over the back of the couch. 

For a moment, he thinks it’s Vanessa. I mean, the black heeled combat boots are almost identical. The long slender legs clad in bright blue only cement that.

He opens his mouth to ask what the hell she’s doing here, but reminds himself it can’t be her. For starters, besides Farenheit, the only other person here is an angry looking kid with dark messy hair and a mole on his lip. 

He scowls when they lock eyes, “the fuck do you want?” 

Erin. 

He’s an angry kid from Diamond City that came through Goodneighbour from time to time. But what was he doing here now?

“Uh, well uh, I guess I’ll see you in the Rail.” He scratches his jawline, and Hancock nods, tossing a jet pump in his direction. “Hancock, I don’t really,” “just try it, my friend here has the  _ best  _ product.” 

The friend in question laughs and a puff of smoke rises up from the couch. Chem trade it is. Strange that Hancock would be getting supplies from someone  _ other  _ than Fred Allen. It must be good shi… stuff.    
  


MacCready didn’t drink much anymore. He hadn’t quit or anything. Just didn’t go on mad drinking binges now, it was Hancock he did that with. It normally ended with them getting high on some experimental chem.

Mac is about to find out that alcohol tolerances wear down the hard way. 

Charlie floated over and poured some more rum into his glass. He’d lost count, honestly, of how much he’d had to drink. 

But it was when he couldn’t get those  _ long, blue, legs  _ out of his head, that he realised he was more than just a little intoxicated. It had been quite a while since he’d,  _ ahem,  _ had the  _ company  _ of a woman. He looks at the stage. Magnolia catches his eye and winks. He debated buying her a drink but the last time he saw her, she spent longer trying to flirt with Vanessa than she even looked at him. 

It made him feel kind of awkward. He stared down at his drink, praying that Hancock would show up soon. 

Now, Mac wasn’t a religious man, but when he heard the ghoul cackling, he almost considered thanking whatever God there was. 

But, when he walked in with that blue jumpsuit clad woman, he struggled to hold back the curses that leapt to his tongue. 

She was pretty. Very fu-,  _ very _ pretty. It wasn’t the otherworldly way that Vanessa was pretty, or the gentle way Lucy was. She was pretty in a way that made him homesick. In the way that he was certain was fresh out of some of his less  _ family friendly  _ fantasies. 

She was more than just ‘wasteland pretty’. But she  _ was  _ ‘wasteland curvy’. Vanessa’s body was soft in the way that showed she’d had years of comfy pre-war living, this woman was curvy but had a visible gaunt to her cheeks, visible high cheekbones and prominent collarbones. Her vault suit did still hug her figure, though. 

Her eyebrows were thick, and highly arched, and one had a piercing through it. It also had a scar around it that cut just above her eyelid. The bridge of her nose also had a piercing in it, with a spike on either side. That was an interesting detail, it was a common practise for raiders back in the capital wasteland. Here in Boston? Not so much. 

She didn’t really give off raider energy, though, but he supposed Vanessa didn’t either. 

Her hair was reddish and had a grey patch on the top. He hadn’t noticed that before. It seemed natural, judging from her roots being similar. It was cut in a way that was messy… but seemed deliberate.

What interested him the most, though, was the black, leather jacket she wore over her vault suit. The style of it seemed oddly familiar, maybe she belonged to one of the small time gangs? Like the atom cats? He knew they painted flames on their power armor, but not on their jackets. 

She catches him looking and grins. He feels his face heat up and it only gets worse when  _ Hancock is bringing her over _ . 

Erin is with them too, it’s now pretty clear he’s with her, although he doesn’t understand why she’d need a bodyguard. At least he wasn’t sniffing around to steal jobs from him anymore.

Unless maybe she was  _ big time  _ in the chem trade. Maybe she was hiring. 

Yeah, he’s got a thing for being hired by pretty old women. Don’t judge him. 

“Mac my boy, let me get you another drink,” “kid’s had enough, don’t want him taking up space in the VIP lounge again.” 

Hancock laughs and waves his hands, “oh shut up, Charlie. If the man wants to drink we let him drink, in fact, bring us a couple bottles of bourbon and some glasses through to the lounge. You three, follow me.” 

He stumbles a little and feels an arm wrap around his middle. It’s the woman. Up close like this he notices she has a tight splattering of dark freckles on her nose and a mole on her top lip. She laughs and pokes him on the nose and he can  _ feel  _ his cheeks burning, “you’ve got the alcohol tolerance of a teenager, don’t ya?” 

When she smiles, he can’t ignore the little dimples in her cheeks. He’s certain his  _ ears _ are burning now. 

He flops on the couch next to Hancock, who immediately puts a bottle of beer in his hand. The redhead sits with her back against the arm of the couch, her legs crossed, “Erin, come sit with us,” she purrs. 

Erin grumbles something under his breath and sits in the chair opposite them. 

“If you’re going to be a spoilsport you can go back to the room,” she’s grinning whilst she says it, so Mac assumes she’s joking, but Erin nods and gets up, literally walking out the room, “whoa! Erin, hold up,” “aw let him go, Maya, it’s been a long day for you both, if he wants to get some rest he can.” 

She huffs, but perks up when Charlie shows up with the bourbon. They sit together, and chat about nothing of note, Mac is barely paying attention, he’s just trying to get his focus  _ off  _ the redheaded woman next to him.

That couldn’t last though. The gentle clacking of heels could be heard, and then Magnolia appeared, almost out of thin air. 

“Scooch up honey, I got some  _ business  _ with the mayor.” She didn’t give Mac enough time to react, wiggling into the tight gap between him and Hancock. He is forced to slide up closer to  _ Maya,  _ it's a pretty name, but he can’t help but think it doesn’t suit her. 

So, he does what any sane person would do, and asks her, “why is your name Maya?” 

He almost kicks himself. That question made  _ no  _ sense, but she simply giggles, “not sure how to answer that one, baby, but Maya isn’t exactly my name, don’t tell the mayor, it’ll break his heart.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“He’s not the best at listening, or maybe it’s his little pet name for me, either way if he’s happy, I’m happy.” 

“Will you tell me your real name?” 

She smiles at him from over her glass as she takes a sip, “well, kid, a woman has to be a little more drunk before she reveals all her secrets.” 

The  _ kid  _ wasn’t exactly encouraging, but the way she held eye contact with him as she downed the rest of her drink told another story. 

They harmlessly chatted for a while, he bragged about how he was the best damn shot in the commonwealth, and she bragged about how her chems were strong enough to make even Hancock feel rough if he took too many. 

The closest they got to any  _ serious  _ conversation was when Mac barely stopped himself from slurring out a question as to what vault she was from. He  _ knew  _ it was rude to ask dwellers that, most of them hadn’t left of their own accord. 

He thought asking her about her jacket was a safer bet, but he found himself oddly mesmerised by the way she rolled her glass against her bottom lip, leaving a shiny purple imprint on it. The colour reminded him of Mutfruit. “Why are you here?” He stammers, it comes out a little feistier than he means it to, bourbon and whiskey always made his testosterone come out in a way he wasn’t so used to anymore. 

She chuckles and crosses and uncrosses her legs, sliding a little closer to him, beckoning him closer with a finger, “I’m here to assassinate Hancock,” she whispers against his ear. When he pulls away, looking startled, she cackles and tosses her head back. 

“I brew chems, hum,  _ south  _ of here. I man a relatively large supply lab and for once I wanted to join the caravan to Goodneighbour myself. Hancock and I are friends from a few years back, since he’s always been a  _ little _ involved in the chem trade himself.” 

“I bet you were expecting more,” he slurs, looking down at his glass, “Goodneighbour isn’t much to look at, huh?” 

“Huh, maybe not,” she smiles and he nods, and catches a look in her eyes that makes him shiver, “but the people are, don’t you think?” 

He coughs down the mouthful of bourbon, and she slides closer again to pour more into his glass. Her face was flushed from drinking, Vanessa’s did the same when she drank beer instead of wine, or vodka. 

Mac pushes her to the back of his head, he knows it isn’t a good idea to think about her, especially whilst he’s drinking. 

Whilst she pours,  _ Maya  _ spills a little on his hand, “oops,” she mumbles, lifting up his hand and licking it. Blush crawls up the back of his neck and he’s starting to completely lose all his self control, “fucking he-...” he murmurs, as she puts a finger to the bottom of his glass and pushes it to his lips. He tilts his head back a little and she doesn’t relent till he finishes the whole thing. 

There’s no way she isn’t flirting with him at this point. 

He puts his glass down on the table in front of them, a little harder than he means to, and leans in. She smells sweet, not like flowers like Vanessa, but like snack cakes and mutfruit. 

“Do you want to uh, go for a walk with me?” 

She’s not stupid, she gets what he’s implying. He knows because of the twinkling in her eyes. 

“Aw, you’ll break Hancock’s heart,” she murmurs, wrapping a hand around his tie and pulling him closer. Her breath tickles his face and he is keeping his hands pressed against his own thighs to control himself. “Ah, he’s distracted Magnolia. He won’t mind, or even notice.” 

“Then you’ve got yourself a deal, lover boy,” he swallowed the lump in his throat and let her pull him through the rail, the almost full bottle of bourbon in her hand. 

“Do you have a room,” she asks, as they reach the Rexford, “I don’t mind getting one, but Erin had the key to ours.” 

He can feel himself blushing again. Okay, they’re really doing this. He pats one of his pockets and produces a key, jingling it in front of her face.  _ Maya  _ grins and let’s him lead her up the stairs. 

He holds the door open for her and she murmurs something about him being a  _ proper lil’ gentleman,  _ and then he hovers in the doorway. 

Maya smiles sweetly, sitting on the bed, taking a swig from the bottle in hand. “Come on, I won’t bite, unless you ask nicely.” 

He took the bottle from her hand and had a mouthful, it was warm, but nothing compared to the fire in his face. She shrugged off her jacket and then dropped it on the floor, reaching up to push his off his shoulders. He lets it fall, then her hands find his scarf. He offers her back the bottle and she shakes her head, busy with his scarf. 

“You trying t’get me drunk, beautiful?” 

He didn’t mean to say it, and was mentally kicking himself for letting it slip out. 

“Sounds like you already are,” she murmurs, pulling his scarf off and dropping it on the floor with their jackets. 

The way she smiled at him made his insides feel warmer than the bourbon they were drinking, he squirmed a little and she laughed, kicking off her boots to sit back on the bed. He follows suit, like a good little puppy. The sober, angry, Mac in the back of his head is yelling at him for always going soft for pretty older women with blue eyes. 

She takes the bottle back, but before she can raise it to her lips, he kisses them. He does it without giving himself a chance to think first, knowing he’d talk himself out of it.

Her mouth tasted strange, not bad, he’d just never had bourbon and mutfruit together before. He figured her lipstick really was made of the purple fruit. She was gentler than he expected her to be with all the flirting, her hand went to his face and she gripped jaw softly. 

Vault suits have zips, that makes things surprisingly easy in situations like this. Mac’s hand-eye coordination is never the  _ best  _ when he’s drunk, but thanks to Vault-Tec’s revolutionary zipper technology he manages to pull it down further than it already is, pushing it’s thick, blue fabric off to her waist. Her skin is creamy, like brahmin milk. No, that’s probably not a good comparison. She has freckles splattering her shoulders and collarbones and it looks like it’d taste as sweet as her lips. 

He brings his lips down to her shoulder and kisses once, testing the waters. She chuckles breathily and her hands slide to his hair, knocking off his hat. He glances up at her face, and then at the collar of her vault suit as he pushes further. It snags on her Pip-Boy, which is spray painted orange and red.

_ M.Astor  _ is scrawled messily in the collar. 

He doesn’t even think about the fact he’s heard the name before. 

His brain is foggy from lust and alcohol. 

“Hey, kid,” she croaks, and he frowns gently nuzzling her neck, “Mac.” He says firmly. She goes silent, and the giggles, but it doesn’t sound as confident as it did before.

“What?”

“That’s my name. Well, it’s MacCready, but most just call me Mac.” 

She freezes and puts her hands on his shoulders, pushing her off him sharply. He fixes her with a dazed confused stare. 

“Did I do something wrong?” 

“RJ…” She croaks, her hands flying to her face. He’s confused, he never told her his name, did he? “Well,  _ shit,  _ little mayor MacCready,” she smiles, and then it drops immediately, “Oh my God! You’re just a kid!”

Poor Mac is  _ more  _ than confused now, he blinks at her whilst squinting, the only thing he can think to say is; “I uh… I’m twenty-two,” “you’re an idiot _!”  _

Oh it all falls into place at that one. The messy red hair, the vault suit, the piercings, the leather jacket. 

_ M.Astor.  _

_ Maple Astor,  _ not Maya. 

One half of the Lone Wanderer.

He groans and rubs his face with his palm. That’s why she made him homesick.  _ That’s  _ why it was like she’d crawled straight from his spank bank. 

“I know…” The words are muffled by his hand. 

Meeting your childhood hero is always weird. It’s even weirder when you try to hook up with them.

“I should go.” 

He grabs her wrist, “wait, Maple, don’t,  _ please,”  _ “I’m a pervert,” she whines, trying to shake him off, “I said I’m twenty-two! That’s an adult!” 

“Saying it like that doesn’t make you sound mature, Robert-Joseph.” She stands with her hands on her hips, the way she did when she scolded him when they were younger. 

She was 17, and pretty, and the only girls he’d seen were the ones he’d grown up in Lamplight with, the ones that,  _ at the time,  _ he was certain had cooties. It was no  _ wonder  _ he had the fattest crush on her. If he could go back and tell mayor MacCready that, well, after trying to shoot him between the eyes, he’d likely call him a liar.  _ Among other things. _

“You sound like a mungo.” 

Her face softens, and she takes a half step back towards him, and then sits back on the bed. “Well haven’t you grown into a handsome young man,” he kisses her again and she leans into it, but then, “wait, is this weird?” 

“Stop talking,” he murmurs against her lips, pushing her down onto the bed, “we can talk about it tomorrow.” 

“You’re definitely going to run away before that talk.” 

He blinked down at her, “no, I don’t think I will.” 

Mac watched as a grin spread across her face, and then she flipped him over, “ _ try and keep up, kid _ .” 


End file.
